


Intimidate, Insinuate

by wreathed



Category: The Thick of It (TV)
Genre: Anger, Bathrooms, Ficlet, M/M, Threats
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-21
Updated: 2010-02-21
Packaged: 2017-10-22 17:08:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/240409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wreathed/pseuds/wreathed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Malcolm and Ollie in the toilets, again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Intimidate, Insinuate

“Alright, Poxbridge?” Malcolm asks faux-cheerfully as he strides into DoSAC’s grimiest Mens and grips the edge of the sink as if he’s attempting to restrain his own fury.

Ollie visibly winces. How did the man _always_ know where you were, even in this so-big-the-taxpayer-went-bankrupt-to-pay-for-it expanse of a building?

“I’m just washing my hands, Malcolm. No need to _set up an inquiry_ , I-”

Two steps forward and Malcolm’s grabbed him by the shirt and shoved him up against the cold, tiled wall, his face an inch away from Ollie’s. Ollie can still hear the tap running.

“I would have never needed to set up any inquiry if you hadn’t whipped out your wanker of an iPhone and sent out that photo to your _entire_ fucking phone book, Jesus Christ.”

“I...I didn’t mean to. It’s a new model, I didn’t realise you only had to press-”

Malcolm breaks off his poorly-constructed pleading with an imitation of a small boy whingeing (which isn’t what Ollie sounded like _in the slightest_ , fuck you very much) and then stops abrubtly and _oh shit shit shit, he’s noticed_.

Without taking his eyes off Ollie’s for a second, Malcolm reaches down to where Ollie is hard against Malcolm’s thigh.

“I bet you show up on grindr, don’t you, you queer _cunt_ ,” Malcolm hisses in his ear, though his breathing is slightly ragged. “Got a profile picture of Angela Heaney sucking your cock with John fucking Barrowman’s face pasted over hers?”

“No,” Ollie sneers. Ollie can feel the flush where his shirt collar is tightest against his neck and across his cheek, embarrassed and aroused, as Malcolm leans in impossibly further and _oh my God_ , it’s Malcolm’s sodding, curious, purring charm and that time Ollie got buggered in his school toilet and those times at Fitz with the closeted, wiry president of CUCA all mixed up together in his mind.

“I could crush you like _that_ ”, Malcolm says, with a single, evil flick of his wrist, making Ollie gasp. “Don’t you forget it. I’ve got the connections, I’ve got the power, and I’ve got you right where I want you.”


End file.
